


the great (drunk & failtastic) galactic bake off

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drunk baking, Gen, Humor, IN SPACE, also shiro is a disaster, he's the biggest disaster, so naturally they have a baking contest, the paladins are drunk and bored, well EVERYONES a disaster, where i poke a fair bit of pun at paul hollywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9255899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: “I got it!” Lance pointed triumphantly across the sunk-in couch at Keith, who was eyeing his third glass of jumbu’v juice with a mild frown. “We should do a bake-off!”--A GBBO parody fic because why not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i promised Donya that i’d write some voltron gen just for her and honestly what’s better than drunk group shenanigans? (she specifically requested the GBBO parody and honestly… how could i resist???)

“I got it!” Lance pointed triumphantly across the sunk-in couch at Keith, who was eyeing his third glass of jumbu’v juice with a mild frown. “We should do a bake-off!”

 

“Pass,” Pidge hiccuped from his side, seated upside down with an empty glass in hand. “Hunk’s too good of a cook for that.”

 

“Yeah but he’s drunk too,” Lance reminded her, pointing at the larger teen who was holding Shiro’s Galra arm in his arms and cooing happily to it. 

 

Pidge raised a thoughtful eyebrow before rolling up into a seated position, “Okay. How about we agree we all need to be four glass of jumbu’v juice drunk before we get started.”

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Shiro started cautiously, still nursing his first glass of the fruity sweet alien alcohol they’d been gifted. But he was drowned out by Keith pointing out their need for judges.

 

“I’ll get Coran and Allura, you guys go get the kitchen set up.” Lance hoped to his feet, ignoring the little slosh of green juice that fell on his shoes.

 

–--

 

Everyone cheers as Shiro downs his fourth glass, Keith rubbing the older paladin’s back with mild concern even as he laughs and asks, “You okay?”

 

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much sugar,” Shiro groans. Keith sympathetically pats his back. Pidge slams her glass down on the table, declares him weak and asks when are they getting started.

 

Hunk peers around at them, hiccuping softly before asking, “Starting what?”

 

“The first ever Great Inter-Galactic Bake-Off!” Lance declares, gesturing at Coran and Allura, who are eyeing Shiro with rising concern because he’s slowly waving his Galra hand in front of his face with an increasingly dazed look. “Coran and Allura are gonna judge.”

 

“What’re we making? What’re the rules?” Keith asks, ignoring how Shiro asks if anyone else can see his hand leaving ‘space trails’ behind. 

 

Taking that as his cue, Coran claps his hands for attention, “The rules are simple! You’ve all got 120 tocks to whip up a scrumptious dish for us. The only stipulation is it needs to be baked. It can be sweet or savory and as simple or complicated as you’d like.”

 

“You’ve got the whole pantry to choose from,” Allura gestures at the open door on the side. “Just make sure that whatever you’re making reflects your personality. It should be something uniquely you.”

 

“I got this one in the _bag_ ,” Lance crows, already rolling his sleeves up.

 

Keith takes two steps back until his ass is pressed against Pidge’s table, leans back and whisper asks, “Wanna bet he’s gonna make a dick shaped cake?”

 

Pidge chortles, sending a stacked set of bowls rattling, “Maybe. He’s drunk enough for it.”

 

“On your marks!”

 

“Get set!” Allura chimes in.

 

With a wild gesture that’s supposed to mean who even knows what, Coran yells, “ _Bake_!”

 

–--

 

“So, Pidge!” Coran declares, peering into the many bowls she’s got laid out on the table. “What’re you making?”

 

Frowning up at the pair, Pidge asks, “How come you’re starting from the back? Shouldn’t you start from the front?” 

 

“We thought this would be more fun,” Coran answers.

 

“And Hunk ignored us and Shiro got stuck in his shirt,” Allura sighs, taking a long sip from her glass.

 

With a confused blink, Pidge leans hard on the left to look beyond Keith and sure enough, there’s Shiro struggling to pull his shirt off. He's got his head stuck, something that makes him let out a series of puppy dog-like noises that make Keith look around his feet in obvious concern. Her eyebrow shoots up higher when Shiro finally manages to take his shirt off and replaces it with an apron. When he eyes slide back to Coran and Allura, she decides, _fair enough_. 

 

Holding up a bowl of dried berries, Pidge explains, “I’m gonna make some berry brownies my mom and I used to make. These aren’t raspberries but… they’re close enough.”

 

“Aren’t you worried about the berries bleeding when you’re going to mix them into your mixture?” Allura asks, plucking one of the bright red berries out of the bowl and popping it into her mouth. The lunell berry’s sweet flavor bursts over her tongue, sharpened thanks to the way Hunk’s preserved it.

 

Opening a jar of flour, Pidge answers, “Na. They never did that back home.”

 

“Looking forward to seeing the final product,” Allura smiles, walking away with Coran. As soon as they’re out of earshot, she whispers, “Pidge doesn’t know those berries expand and burst under heat, does she?”

 

“She’ll find that out soon enough I suppose,” Coran laughs.

 

–--

 

“Plaited bread?” Coran asks with great interest, eyeing the dough Keith is kneading with great enthusiasm. Although it’s clear that only Keith’s enjoying the hefty smack the dough makes every time it hits the table. It makes everyone else jumps each time, making them shoot dirty looks at Keith.

 

Except Shiro, who has been intently staring at the stove knobs for the last few minutes. 

 

Keith nods, rolling the dough out with the heel of his palm repeatedly, “Yeah. I’m gonna make two kinds of breads. One sweet and one salty. The sweet one’s gonna have fruity filling and a fruity glaze and the salty ones gonna have…some meat stuff in it.”

 

 _Looks like the juice is finally starting to kick in_ , Allura thinks with amusement as Keith stares at the ingredients for his savory bread filling like they’ve just popped up out of thin air. 

 

“Think you’ll manage in the time you’ve got left?” Coran asks.

 

“Totally,” Keith nods, pulling the meat and herbs closer. 

 

Allura doubts it. She really doubts it.

 

–--

 

“I,” Lance begins with a dramatic gesture that nearly sends one of the many machines on his bench to the floor, “am going to _blow your mind_  with these cookies.”

 

Looking up from the whipped up mix Lance has got resting in a bowl, Allura asks, “Is that so?”

 

“Yes!” Lance points a finger at her but it winds up going three inches to her left. “I’ve put in a couple of special and secret ingredients that’s going to kick these cookies from great to awesometacular!”

 

Coran checks a few bowls, running his finger through what little residue is left at the bottom before licking his finger thoughtfully, “Hmm hmm. Interesting. How are you going to compensate for the sweetness? If you mix all these together, they’re bound to be incredibly sweet.”

 

“You think this is my first cookie rodeo? I’ll have you know I won the McClain family cookie-off three years in a running with this recipe. It’s going to win again today.”

 

Declaration made, Lance grabs the bowl Allura had been examining and starts whisking it together with incredible strength. So much so that half the ingredients spill over the edge and onto the floor and table.

 

Hopefully some of it would survive in the bowl and turn into cookies in 60 tocks.

 

–--

 

“Any second now,” Hunk whispers, crouched in front of the oven, mitts already on his hands.

 

Allura holds onto Coran’s arm, holding her breath in anticipation. She swallows nervously when Hunk opens the oven doors. Frowns a little when Hunk tilts his head over the metal tray and declares, “They’re not ready yet.”

 

“But you didn’t even look at them. How can you tell?” Coran asks what Allura’s wondering.

 

If he weren’t drunk, his answer would almost be sage, “I can hear them. The pastries tell me when they’re ready and those souffle’s told me they weren’t ready.”

 

The time it takes for Allura and Coran to exchange a confused and alarmed look, Hunk’s gone back to sitting with his ear pressed against the oven while whispering, “Talk to me babies, talk to me.”

 

–--

 

“Shiro?” Coran asks carefully, “What are you making?”

 

“Burgers!”

 

With a puzzled look, Allura asks, “Er… Will you be … baking them?”

 

“Nope. Gonna cook ‘em,” Shiro nudges the meat patties around on the sizzling pan. 

 

 _Where’d he get that apron from in the first place_ … Allura wonders, double taking when she notices the extra two glasses of jumbu’v juice resting next to the plate piled high with onions.

 

“Will you be making your own bread then?” Coran is asking. 

 

“Nope. Just gonna make the meat.”

 

–--

 

A tremendous clattering sound comes from the far end of the room, followed by a string of curses. Keith turns around to stare at Pidge, who has pulled out her tray of brownies… what’s left of them.

 

“What happened?” Keith is asking.

 

“I don’t know?” Pidge stares in confusion, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ve never made exploding brownies before. This’z never happened to me before!”

 

–--

 

Siding up to Keith, who has been standing in front of his tray with one arm across his chest and the other thoughtfully covering his mouth, Allura asks, “What are you thinking about? How long to bake your bread?”

 

“I’m trying to remember how to tie the bread together.”

 

Allura looks down at the rolled out dough with its fruit-filling smeared in the middle and wonders, “Er, how are you going to braid it when you haven’t cut the plaits out?”

 

“ _Damn_ ,” Keith declares with a wondering look. “I kept wondering what I was forgetting.”

 

–--

 

“They’re singing Hakuna Matata,” Hunk beams as he pulls out a tray of souffle’s out of the oven. “Just the way they’re supposed to!”

 

–--

 

“I just need two more tocks to finish icing these horseys!” Lance yells, flecks of green and blue icing flying onto his cheeks as he frantically whips the sugar and milk mixture together. “Hunk! You gotta help me out here buddy!”

 

 

The yellow paladin however, is busy trying to decorate his souffle’s with smiley faces made of chocolate-like icing.

 

–--

 

Shiro slides eight charred lumps of coal onto a place, daintily places a small bunch of green leaves in the middle and declares, “Done!”

 

–--

 

Pidge cries and laughs as she plates her berry brownies onto a plate, “It looks like a massacre! I’ll call them a “Berry Bad Batch”.’

 

–--

 

Throwing the oven door open, Keith frantically tries to put out the fire that’s burst on the inside yelling, “How was I supposed to know trying to bake break at 3000 degree for 2 tocks was a bad idea?”

 

–--

 

The Altean’s stare at the line of dishes before them and feel their stomach’s balk as one. It’s a true struggle not to exchange a horrified look, especially because their paladin’s are staring eagerly up at them. 

 

Some of them anyways. 

 

Shiro’s intently pulling a thread out of his apron, frowning every time he hits a snag. Keith’s trying to rub out black burn marks off his arms using nothing but his spit, not realizing he’s making a bigger mess. Pidge is still giggling at how she drew a murder scene on her plate, complete with burst berries which are supposed to represent bleeding organs. Hunk is humming placidly under his breath, swaying a little in his seat. Lance has half a cookie in his mouth, nibbling on it without using his hands as he gently rocks his stool back and forth.

 

“Lets uhhh,” Coran starts, “let’s start from this end of the table.” He pulls Hunk’s souffle towards them. Allura nods, picking one of the spoons up. Mentally, she cheers Coran for his idea to start with what is sure to be the best dish from this group.

 

She presses the spoon against the top and feels resistance. She pushes in harder. _Harder_. And it finally cracks through, a burnt smell immediately creeping out.

 

“It means no worries! For the rest of your days!” Hunks sings happily.

 

Allura lets the spoon drop, moving to Lance’s cookies instead, “Let’s see what you made La-”

 

A choked noise falls out as a pungent and utterly recognizable smell crawls up her nose. Pressing a hand against her nose, she asks, “Lance, how much jumbu’v juice did you use?”

 

“A whole jug!” Lance chirps with delight. “Doesn’t it make these cookies taste _awesome_?”

 

She takes the smallest bite out of the corner of messily iced cookies, chokes immediately at the strong taste of the fruity drink. Coughing, she says, “That’s one way to describe them.”

 

It feels like survival instinct to put as much distance between herself and the extremely alcoholic cookies. It’s  _definitely_  relief that fills her when Lance pouts and takes the plate into his lap, “Fine. More for me.” 

 

Her relief is short lived however. Allura stares at the “murder plate” Pidge has put together and worries. “What’s going on here… exactly?”

 

Pidge immediately launches into a detailed story: Mary Berry was on her way home when she noticed a shadowy figure pulling a man with sugary hair into an alley way. So she naturally went to investigate and help, but it was too late! The mysterious figure had already decapitated the brownie with sugared hair, leaving Mary Berry alone in the alley way with blood on her brownie shoes.

 

“Who was the villain?” Keith asks with great interest.

 

Pidge grins, “The number, one!”

 

It makes _no_ sense to Allura but apparently it’s good enough for Keith, who nods sagely. At least Pidge’s brownies are edible, that’s more than what she can say for the others. Because she’s got full confidence in the fact that Keith and Shiro had burnt their dishes to a crisp. 

 

Coran’s already poking the two burnt loaves Keith’s put forward, which she notes have just been pinched untidily together at the top. _Looks like he didn’t remember how to braid the bread together after all_. 

 

The older Altean is scratching some of the white sugar sauce off to check the break underneath. “My dear lad, its burnt all the way through.”

 

“Crunchy, just the way I like it,” Keith nods firmly, accepting the cookie Hunk hands him before stuffing it in his mouth in one go.

 

Even though he makes a valiant attempt at cutting into it, the bread is stronger. It chips and flakes but generally refuses to be cut. Allura’s shocked and amazed (and privately wonders if they could be used as weapons of some kind…)

 

“And last but not least, our black paladin’s blackened burgers,” Coran announces with a weak smile.

 

“Nice,” Lance declares with a laugh.

 

“Blackened burgers or hockey pucks?” Pidge asks when Allura gingerly taps one of the patties against the plate and it _clacks_.

 

With a bemused little blink, Shiro worriedly asks, “We’re we _supposed_ to make homemade weapons to fight the Galra?”

 

The question makes Keith spit out half the contents of his mouth in a startled laugh. That, coupled with Shiro’s question, makes Hunk laughs so hard he falls off his chair, taking a giggling Pidge down with him. Lance just bends over in half, clutching his plate of cookies against his chest while he laughs.

 

“No more alcohol for them,” Allura sighs tiredly. “ _Ever_.”


End file.
